Mint On The Pillow
by OpportuneMoment
Summary: It's Valentine's Day and Miss Parker has Jarod just where she wants him... at gunpoint. COMPLETE AT LAST!
1. End of the Line

**_Mint on the Pillow_**

_Author_: Gillian Slater

_Summary_: On Valentine's Day, Miss Parker gets Jarod right where she wants him:- at gunpoint.

_Disclaimer_: They're mine, all mine! Mwah ha haaaaaa. Erm, no, actually these characters do not belong to me. I'm just playing with them. Please don't sue.

**Part One - End of the Line**

Weary beyond words, Miss Parker trudged towards the inviting glow from the lobby of the Majestic Hotel. With Jarod once again disappeared into the night, leaving her with nothing but impotent rage as usual, she'd phoned Sydney back at the Centre to rush the helicopter over and get her out of the hell that was Minneapolis in February. However, there were people higher up the chain of command who demanded all the Centre's available transport tonight, and she wasn't about to take a bus, so she would be staying here a second night after all. She began to regret being so snotty with the concierge yesterday.

As she stomped up the marble steps, the impeccably smart footman reached for the door but was stopped by an inhumanly loud sneeze.

"A-aaaaaa-CHOOOO!"

She glared at the man as he hastily pulled himself together and opened the door for her.

"Gesundheit," she said in deliberate monotone.

After the insufferably smug concierge had 'welcomed' her back with a painted smile, she took the elevator up to the 9th floor, and the sanctuary of a quiet, spacious room with a mini-bar.

She headed straight for the shower, feeling the need to wash off both the grime of the city and the shame of yet another dead-end in the search for Jarod.

Twenty minutes later, she reclined on the luxurious bed wearing an exquisite, silky hotel bathrobe. She felt clean, but still as miserable, and somehow it wasn't just today that was getting her down. She casually unwrapped one of the delicate little chocolate mints on each pillow and ate it. Of course, there were two; it was a double room. She noted how very depressing it was that she spent most of her nights in hotel rooms meant for two, never celebrating or sharing anything, just defeated and lonely.

Her melancholy musings were shrilly interrupted by the phone ringing. She let the thing whinge five or six times, considering just ignoring it. She was not in the mood to put on the 'efficient and icy' Parker tone at the moment. As the ringing continued she sighed and reluctantly picked up the phone.

"Parker," she answered blandly.

"Aw, why so down? Valentine's not your favourite holiday?"

"Jarod," she acknowledged dejectedly. _Just_ the person she didn't want to talk to; she'd had quite enough of his taunting for one day, having endured the scrutiny of the bastard's 'clinical psychiatry students' all morning as she trawled his latest haunt for clues. _First he humiliates me, now he wants to talk about Valentine's Day? _

Jarod sat on the third step of the Majestic Hotel, a smile playing on his face as he looked out at the rain-drenched street.

"I just wanted to see if you got home alright," He smiled briefly at the doorman. "You didn't answer my question."

"Look, I'm really not in the mood for your shrink-games. I get enough of that from Sydney."

"Sorry, I'm guess I'm still in character. I do find this 'Saint Valentine' concept fascinating though, don't you?"

"Riveting." For once she didn't have to feign the biting sarcasm.

"A dead man who is supposed to represent lovers... It sounds fairly morbid, and yet on this one day people the world over are suddenly more concerned with relationships, with love--"

"Could you ponder the absurdity on your _own _time?" She snapped.

Jarod was silent. Miss Parker involuntarily held her breath, waiting for his philosophical response; he always had to have the last word.

"Love is absurd? That's cynical even for you. But I think--"

"Aaaa-ChOOO!" the doorman doubled over with the violent sneeze. Jarod's words were briefly masked by the noise.

Parker sat bolt upright. That sneeze was more distinctive than a goddamn fingerprint! _He's outside!_

"--could find happiness based upon a mythological naked baby with a bow and arrow is quite intriguing."

"To you perhaps..." she tried to keep her tone neutral as she leaped up and began to strap on her holster, "But I'm the first to admit I think all this romance frenzy is a bunch of commercial crap. If you don't get it, maybe your students could help." She held the phone in her teeth briefly as she pulled on her calf-length trench coat over the silky robe, hurrying to the elevator.

"Oh you met them, then. They're bright kids."

Parker covered the phone to mask the 'ping' as she reached the ground floor.

"Oh, I met your little Freuds alright. Sydney would be so proud." Her voice dripped with sarcasm, even though her mind was only half on the conversation as she crept through the long lobby, revolver at the ready.

About ten feet from the glass doors, she could make out his silhouette, sitting on the steps, phone to his ear. The bastard thought he was being so clever, sitting right under her nose. Well, for once she would burst his smug little bubble.

Silently she stepped out, glaring sternly at the doorman with one finger pressed emphatically to her lips. The robust man nodded, and then again he lurched with a violent sneeze.

"Aaaa-aaa-CHOOOO!"

"Gesundheit," she said coolly.

Jarod leaped to his feet and whirled around, dropping the phone, which clattered away. The familiar teasing smile on the Pretender's face was replaced by shock and disbelief; he'd been truly caught out, probably for the first time in his forward-planning, genius life.

Parker levelled the gun at him, her triumphant smile brilliant. "Happy Valentine's Day, Jarod."

**End of Part One**


	2. Surrender

_**Mint On The Pillow**_

**Part Two - Surrender**

A gun pressed into his back, Jarod swiped the card-key through the pad and opened the door. He stopped on the threshold and gestured to the gold room number: one-hundred and one.

"I couldn't have picked better myself," he smiled back at her. She nudged him in the back with her gun. "Inside, now."

"Room 101 is supposed to contain your worst fears."

"Then it must be broken. As of right now it contains my greatest success."

"Capturing me is the greatest thing you've ever done? I feel sorry for you."

"Shut up, Jarod. There really is _nothing _you can say to spoil this."

She pushed him over to the armchair by the window and shoved him down into it, taking both his wrists and swiftly handcuffing him to the radiator. She put her gun back in her holster and perched on the edge of the bed, grinning in delight.

He looked past her to the head of the bed. "Is that for me?"

Miss Parker looked back and saw the second little foil-wrapped chocolate mint she hadn't eaten. She reached over and picked it up, unwrapped it and held it out to Jarod with a challenging little smile. He returned the look evenly, and with an impish grin, she ate it.

"Mmm... I still can't believe it - _I _outsmarted the great Pretender. I've--_GOT--_you! This is like Thanksgiving, Christmas and birthday all rolled into one! I'm going to be _lavished _with praise," she leaned forward, bringing her gloating face closer to his, "And best of all, I can finally tell that bitch Brigitte where to stick it, and my snivelling brother, too, that is, if they aren't fired on the spot."

Jarod watched the play of triumph on her face. She could, and probably would, continue to gloat like this all the way back to the Centre. But he could also see past the arrogance, to the genuine happiness beneath, the simple joy of achievement... she was like a kid who'd finally completed the world's hardest jigsaw. He couldn't help smiling at the light in her eyes, the beauty of her smile.

"What are you grinning about?" she asked.

"I can't remember when I've seen you this happy, and all it took was a little thing like you capturing me. If I'd known I would've let you catch me ages ago."

Her first thought was to quickly refute the obvious implication that he had _let_ her catch him tonight, but the warmth of his smile stopped her. She looked at him, at the man she'd chased up and down the country, who had dominated her thoughts one way or another for years. Now here he was, her prisoner, and yet strangely unconcerned, his deep chocolate eyes holding her gaze, the relaxed smile of a person completely in control.

"So, what is it?" he asked casually.

"What?"

"Your worst fear."

"Now you _really_ sound like Sydney."

"Of course I already know, I just want to hear you say it."

She knew she shouldn't take his bait. She'd gotten into too many conversations like this late at night, which always ended the same way: with her flatly denying any of the distressing truths he pointed out, brushing off his advice and putting the phone down, then lying awake all night haunted by his words, able to admit to herself in the darkness that he really did have her figured out. Now he was right in front of her, hanging up was impossible... she _should not _get into this.

"Spiders," she retorted icily.

"Come on, you can do better than that."

"You seem to know everything, why don't you enlighten me?" She regretted _that_ the moment the words passed her lips. The grin on his face told her he was just waiting for the opportunity to get under her skin.

"Your fear," his voice was low and smooth, "Is of people seeing past your Ice-Queen façade to the human, the _woman_ beneath." As hard as she was concentrating on not listening, she couldn't fail to notice the minute raise of his eyebrow at that.

As much as possible given his restraint, he sat back in the chair and adopted a slightly smug expression; he was reading her like a book. "You work hard to maintain your public persona, so you're afraid of things which shake it... which make you _feel_. Your Room 101 is being out of control. That's why I annoy you so much. You can't control me..." he looked briefly at his handcuffs, "Not even now."

That was enough, Miss Parker decided. Now she could read _him! _He was backed into a corner and trying to bluff his way out.

"I'd reconsider that evaluation, _doctor_," she countered, her voice laced with sarcasm, "In light of the fact that our little chase is over."

Honestly, the great psycho-analyst, telling her she was afraid to feel? She'd had enough heartbreak in her life to fuel a daytime soap opera! He was right about being annoying, though. Every word he said, every suggestive smile could reach right through her prickly defences. She blinked away the sudden inexplicable anxiety. No matter... soon he would be back where he belonged and leave her insecurities alone.

Jarod watched the interplay of self-doubt and reassurance on her face. He knew his words had hit home as always, but tonight perhaps, she would be able to ignore the voice of truth and listen only to her inflated ego.

He leaned forward, his eyes never leaving hers. "If I were you, Miss Parker, I wouldn't crack out the champagne prematurely. I'm not back in the Centre yet."

The confidence in his tone worried her just a bit. But that was just what he wanted, wasn't it? When you don't have the upper hand, make them think you do.

"Don't worry, you soon will be," she tried to match him in certainty.

"Not tonight in any case. I happen to know the Centre's airborne resources are fully booked at the moment. They're all in Africa for a triumvirate meeting."

"How do _you_--?"

"So you can't just call in a helicopter or the private jet till, oh, tomorrow afternoon at the earliest."

He grinned widely at her now. "Or did you expect to drive a thousand miles with me at gunpoint?"

Her look hardened. He was going to be difficult, was he? "Lucky for me you're not going anywhere."

"Miss Parker," Jarod chided in that infuriatingly amused tone of his, "You know escapology is a hobby of mine... I can get out of these in a heartbeat," he rattled the handcuffs briefly, "You really think you're gonna keep that gun trained on me for, oh, about twelve hours? It's two in the morning already..." he let out an exaggerated yawn, completely contagious, and smiled as Miss Parker tried to stifle an answering yawn, "...And no bathroom breaks?"

She stared him down cold. "Well maybe I'll just shoot you."

"I'm pretty sure your orders are to take me alive."

"Doesn't have to be fatal, just incapacitating. You won't get very far with a bullet in your leg."

He shook his head. "I don't think you want to bring me back damaged either. Might make you look a little... sloppy. It would certainly give Brigitte some ammo."

She thought about that for a moment, but snapped out of the distraction as he started to wriggle his hands out of the cuffs with Houdini-like expertise.

"Stop that!" She yelled, swiftly drawing her gun. He continued to smile at her, but now there was no trace of teasing.

"Calm down. Whatever you might think, I'm really not _asking _to be shot."

Miss Parker stood and stepped closer, keeping the gun raised as he let the cuffs fall with a clang against the radiator. "You're going to regret that."

He stood up slowly, holding his hands out slightly before him, and instead of trying to move away from her, he came closer. His eyes flickered briefly to the gun, and then back to her face, undaunted.

"Not another step. I'm warning you Jarod." She cocked the gun purposefully. Gently he reached out and put his hand over the gun barrel. "What the _hell_--" she gasped, incredulous.

"Are you really going to kill me?" His voice was deep and velvety, his eyes mirroring the question as he continued forwards. His palm was against the gun muzzle, not attempting to take it away from her, not challenging her to act, but closing the distance between them until the revolver was pressed against his abdomen and his hand fell loosely by his side.

Miss Parker's eyes darted between her gun, digging into him, and his calm face. Incredibly, given her years of experience in such tense situations, she was starting to feel flustered, taken off-guard by this approach. She'd expected defiance from him, cunning, perhaps even pleading, but never this gentle indifference to her threats, this softness. She tried to force her erratic thoughts into coherence enough to form some threat...

"Stop it," she hissed distractedly.

He reached out to caress her cheek, a whisper of a touch. She looked straight into his rich dark eyes.

"I mean it, Jarod, _stop it_."

She backed away from him, but he followed, maintaining the close quarters until she felt the wall at her back. She caught her breath... how did she feel so trapped when _she _was the one with the gun! She could pull the trigger right now, blow a hole right through him...

He stepped closer, ignoring the discomfort of the gun still digging into his gut.

"Listen, as much as I would love to see you showered with praise, not to mention finally getting some time off, you need to understand that _I will never go back to the Centre_. Not unless it's in a body bag." His eyes were suddenly intense; Miss Parker was in no doubt that he meant every word. "And if you don't want to be the one who murders me, then you might as well accept that tonight is not going to be your night..." He paused for effect, and the gravity of the moment was broken as his lips curled into a little suggestive smile, and one eyebrow went up, "...At least as far as recapturing me goes." His eyes held that same cheeky glint again, but there was something more...

As much as she wanted to slap him for the presumption that she... that _they _would... she couldn't deny she was acutely aware of his closeness, the smell of him, the look in his eyes... silently she cursed him and her own weakness. This was _Jarod!_ He was positively the _last _person she should ever--

He leant forward and caught her lips in a light kiss, lingering, his hands moving to her hair. For a minute she acquiesced, lost in sensation. Then her rational mind clawed back control and she pushed him back, forcing herself to stand straight and strong.

"This is crazy! You're absolutely out of your mind--"

"Shhh, don't think so much. That was always my mistake."

"I have to think Jarod, I have to stay alive."

"There's more to life than just surviving. You know, today is Valentine's Day. It's supposed to be the one night when nobody has to be alone, when people who are looking for..." he catches his breath, "...for _love_, find it."

She started to protest, but her silenced her with another kiss. He deftly removed the gun from her hand, putting it on a little side table beside them, still in reach. Immediately she tried to reach for it, but he took her hand, interlacing his fingers with his own.

"You don't need that... I surrender."

"You're going to use this against me--" she accused.

"You know me better than that."

"It's one thing to say that here and now, but what about tomorrow?"

"The games continue, and you and I will always have this to remember."

"Or regret."

"There's been too much to regret in our lives already, let's leave tonight out of it. Tonight is just about... about not being alone."

Miss Parker decided she could surrender to that.

**End of Part Two**


	3. Different In The Light

**_Mint on the Pillow_**

**Part Three - Different in the Light**

As the pale February morning slanted in through the tasteful blinds, Miss Parker awoke with a smile on her face for the first time in years. Last night was magical, unreal almost. She'd felt nothing but anger and emptiness for so long, but in one night Jarod, her nemesis, had shattered the wall of ice around her heart and made her feel loved.

Drowsily, she tried to roll over, but her hand was restrained - cold metal pressed into her flesh. Her eyes snapped open, her breath caught in her throat as she stared, incredulous, at her handcuffed wrist.

She looked desperately around the room... _Where was he! The bastard! _All her sweet thoughts of Jarod turned to hatred in a split-second - god the man was unbelievable! How could he do this to her, after all he had said about surrender, about having one night of absolute truce?

She felt like such a chump, tricked into bed and, worse, into feeling and admitting more than she'd ever dared, when all along he'd been planning his revenge. She remembered her incessant gloating all the way up from the lobby... She expected him to come strolling in any minute, a tray of breakfast and a smile like she wasn't fixed to the bed, a prisoner. Oh yes, he would enjoy turning the tables like this. Last night she had him right where she wanted him, at gunpoint, the taste of victory in her mouth. What taunts would he throw at her now, what degradation would he dream up?

She felt tears roll down her cheek and swatted them angrily away with her free hand. She had to stay furious, livid with rage; cursing him with every breath... it was the only way to stave off the welling of sadness, of loss. Part of her knew the greatest hurt came not from the betrayal, but that she had believed in something last night, in the words he whispered, in the look in his deep, searching eyes, in the way he gave himself to her utterly, completely... it had felt real. Now she grieved for the loss of that perfect reality, cut deep by the knowledge that the most powerful thing she had ever felt had been false.

- - - - - - - - - -

The Majestic Hotel was alive with activity at 7am, maids hurrying here and there, receptionists going through their long lists of wake-up calls.

Sydney strolled into the high-ceilinged lobby and up to the gold-edged reception desk. He mentioned that he'd come to collect Miss Parker from Room 101, and, rather than have them page her at this hour, which he knew wouldn't do anything to pacify her after being 'trapped' there all night, he simply went on up.

- - - - - - - - - -

Parker, her mind caught up in a tempest of emotions, was now almost anticipating Jarod's return so that she could start hurling abuse at him. Where was he? Just then she spotted something glinting above her... the handcuff key, suspended out of reach above her. Oh, that was just _too _much!

"JAROD!" she yelled.

Approaching her door, Sydney heard the yell and broke into a run. He banged on the door, "Miss Parker!"

Parker recognised the voice immediately. Terror gripped her - she was going to be found _like this_! "Sydney, don't--" she started.

But he had already kicked the flimsy door open and dashed into the room. Breathless, he scanned the room, obviously expecting to see a fleeing Jarod, or find Miss Parker under attack... his anxiety turned to confusion as he saw her in bed, one wrist cuffed to the headboard.

"Miss Parker, what's...?"

Noises could be heard in the corridor: maids approaching to find the cause of the commotion.

"Shut the door!" Parker hissed urgently. Sydney quickly stepped out and mumbled to the staff that there was no cause for alarm, then shut the door as much as possible with its busted lock, and wedged it. He turned back to Miss Parker, who quickly looked away. She wouldn't, _couldn't _talk to Sydney now.

The psychiatrist cleared his throat, his usual calm returning as he took stock of the situation. It was plainly obvious that last night had been very eventful; something had happened between Jarod and Miss Parker... there had to have been a liaison, a romantic interlude turned sour? They must have argued, but he could _never _believe that Jarod would... Whatever the circumstances, Miss Parker was clearly very shaken and more hurt than she would admit. He had some very tough counselling ahead.

He went over to the bedside and checked the handcuff.

"Key's up there," she said flatly, waving her free hand above her but still not meeting his concerned eyes.

Sydney reached up for the key, but noticed immediately something was amiss.

"Miss Parker, there's some kind of device attached to this key..." he examined it more closely; it looked like the hotel alarm clock and a spring from the chair had been cannibalised. "It appears to be a timer and... the key is in a clamp set to be released in twenty minutes."

Parker looked up at it in confusion. "What the hell--?"

"It appears Jarod wanted to release you, at seven-thirty." Sydney said delicately. She looked sharply at him. So, Shrink-Master-General had already worked the whole thing out, had he? Ugh, she wanted to curl up and die!

"Gee, Syd, I really don't feel like waiting around. Get it out, NOW!"

Sydney considered the device for a moment, then simply removed the alarm clock battery and the key dropped, landing not two inches from Miss Parker's face. She seized it, unlocked her cuffs and sat up, grabbing the duvet around her, right up to her chin.

"Now, do you think you could wait outside?" It wasn't a request. Sydney nodded meekly and left the room.

She leaped out of bed and dragged on the clothes she had worn for two days already, which were neatly folded on a chair... _not _where they had landed last night. She stood before the mirror and steeled herself before stepping out to face Sydney.

As she emerged into the corridor, chin held high, she shot the psychiatrist a withering look. "Say _one word_--" Sydney held up his hands in acquiescence, and, to his credit, there was not a hint of amusement on the old man's face.

**End of Part Three**


	4. Aftermath

**_Mint On The Pillow_**

**Part Four - Aftermath**

Miss Parker sat at her computer, ostensibly compiling a report on her activities in Minneapolis, the very notion of which was ridiculous to her. She tried to imagine the look on Mr. Raines' face, on her father's face, if she were to write anything remotely resembling the truth.

She stared at her blank document, uncaring. In fact the truth was that she had felt very little other than hollow since she returned. It had been a whole day... she should be over it by now.

_I've had plenty of one-night-stands before, _she told herself, _This is no different._

A lie, pure and simple, like the ones she would hand in, double-spaced, to her superiors.

...But there was someone who knew the truth.

Whatever his opinions, Sydney had mercifully kept them to himself on the flight back to Dover, had refrained from making any attempt at getting her to 'open up and share her feelings'... an extremely difficult thing for a psychiatrist.

All day she had expected him to appear at her door with that slightly expectant but always concerned expression on his face. He was nowhere to be seen. Miss Parker wondered if he had simply made a supreme effort not to stick his nose in, or even, however unlikely, that he had somehow gone to meet Jarod, to hear his side of the story.

She wasn't going to kid herself about any conclusions he might have jumped to. He'd found her quite obviously naked beneath the bedclothes, and in handcuffs... _rape _springs to mind, and Sydney was probably tearing his hair out at the thought that his sweet boy might have turned savage.

Nothing was farther from the truth, at least, it hadn't been that night. Miss Parker had been more than willing to listen to his whispered confessions of love, his promise that she wouldn't be alone...

Except that in the morning she _was _alone. Alone and hurt. She had always despised the kind of women who waited pathetically by the phone for their man to call, and last night, she had become that hated cliché. He had not phoned, had sent no message of any kind, only left her to finally acknowledge the painful truth: it had all been a ruse to escape.

She remembered the fire in his eyes as he told her that he would never return to the Centre. At that moment she had believed he would do anything to avoid it, but only now did she realise what lengths he would go to... using her, abusing the bond between them. She dropped her head into her hands and wept like a wounded child.

- - - - - - - - - -

Sydney's emails had gone unanswered; it seemed Jarod was no more inclined to discuss the incident than Miss Parker. But they would have to talk about it sooner or later, he knew, for sanity's sake. Things left unsaid began to eat away at the soul, and these two were souls he cared very much about.

The quiet scientist had observed both of them for more years than he could count, been a friend and guide, trying his best to safeguard their fragile hearts in such a twisted environment as the Centre. He could still remember the first time they had met as children, their hands pressed together through reinforced glass. Despite his concerns, and the stern warnings of his superiors to keep their interaction to a minimum, the youngsters had formed a powerful bond of friendship and attraction which time and distance had not diminished. Truth be told, the day Mr. Parker had requisitioned his daughter to search for Jarod, Sydney predicted their tender history would resurface, however embittered and cynical Miss Parker had become.

Their relationship, thrown into chaos by the hunt, had now been fractured even further by whatever had gone on in Minneapolis. After pacing his office, checking his empty inbox every fifteen minutes or so, Sydney decided that whatever denials and refusals of his support were in store for him, he would be there for Miss Parker today, just as he had been there in her childhood.

- - - - - - - - - -

Miss Parker's office was dim, barely illuminated by the serenely oozing lava lamp on her desk. Her storm of tears had given way to quiet depression, her eyes still stinging, tears drying on her cheeks and mascara on her shirt sleeve as she slumped at her desk, head down on her folded arms.

Seemingly from out of nowhere, a handkerchief was passed down to her. She jumped, certain she would turn to meet Lyle's cruel grin, but instead Sydney smiled reassuringly at her. She accepted the hanky and wiped her hot face.

"How on earth did you manage it?" she asked him weakly.

"Manage what?"

"To curb your professional curiosity for," she looked at her watch, "Almost twelve hours."

Sydney smiled; even in despair she would still turn to sarcasm. "With extreme effort. But as you can see, I crumbled, and so here I am."

"And if I don't feel like talking?" she challenged. Sydney simply shrugged, his kind eyes looking into hers, melting the irrational resentment that had been building inside her. He put a hand to her shoulder briefly and turned to leave. Miss Parker was incredulous... this was the most compulsive shrink in the world...

"Y-you're not going to ask me what happened?"

At the door, he turned. "No, I'm not. I'm going to _hope _that you know you can talk to me whenever you are ready. You won't get an inquisition from me, Parker. Not this time."

Suddenly, as he was about to step out of her office, before the quiet confidentiality of the space was broken, Miss Parker felt a sudden imperative need to correct any misconceptions, to save the old man's feelings somehow.

"Sydney--" she began, struggling with the words. "Jarod didn't... he _didn't_..." she let the obvious word float, unspoken.

When Sydney met her gaze again, she could see the relief and gratitude in his eyes. "Thank you," he mumbled, and left.

**End of Part Four**


	5. Devil's Advocate

**_Mint On The Pillow_**

**Part Five - Devil's Advocate**

Miss Parker had never of thought herself as the kind of person that would crack easily. However, just two days after Sydney's offer of a friendly ear, she found herself walking towards his office. She'd had virtually no sleep since Minneapolis, and her sanity was beginning to suffer. Both her father, Lyle and Brigitte, in their different ways, had expressed concern about her lack of focus and her haggard appearance; she knew she was drawing dangerous attention to herself with her incessant moping.

Sydney's door was ajar, and hewas hard at work analysing CAT scans which she guessed were probably from some other poor Centre guinea-pigs, she didn't really want to think about it. He looked up as she walked in without knocking. If she _was_ going to talk to him, she decided coolly, she was going to be in control.

"Miss Parker," he greeted her mildly, but there was a note of appreciation in his voice which calmed her somewhat. He turned off his monitor and motioned to the comfy swivel chair opposite him and she sat down, tilting back with a sigh.

"You look exhausted," he commented sympathetically as she sat down, "If you like I could give you a herbal drink to help--"

"I'm going to catch him, Sydney!" She blurted out, "I'm going to drag him in here butt naked and make sure they stick him in the darkest hole they can find!" She choked out the words, angry tears already brimming and her face flushing with rage. Sydney reached over for a tissue and set it down in front of her.

"And will that erase what happened between you?" he asked. Parker thought his tone was a little like a parent with an irrational child. She folded her arms.

"It'd sure as hell teach him the consequences of betrayal!"

"You're so certain he betrayed you?"

"Sydney! You were there! He _handcuffed _me!"

"Look, why don't you start from the beginning?" he suggested calmly. Parker's eyes widened, and her face flushed anew, this time not from anger.

"I... I caught him. He thought he was being soooo clever, calling me from right outside the hotel. But I outsmarted your boy genius, Syd. I had him at gunpoint. But then..." she closed her eyes, remembering for the umpteenth time the way he had so audaciously wriggled out of his restraints, walked towards her with that easy confidence... "He disarmed me," she finished vaguely as she opened her eyes.

To her surprise, Syndey nodded as though he had been watching the images in her head. "Part of what makes Jarod so difficult to capture, Miss Parker, is his ability to use our own weaknesses against us. Your anger is what makes you determined, and on this occasion he managed to dissolve it somehow, right?"

Parker nodded, remembering how her rebuttals of him had become less vehement, how, in the end, it was his surrender which melted her resolve. Yes, he had found her weakness alright. There was only one word for how she felt: used. It must have been plainly obvious on her face.

"Miss Parker, whatever you are feeling right now, there's no doubt that for one night you shared something very special with Jarod. The two of you--"

"Special!" she cut him off angrily, "If it was so goddamn special why did he run out on me? Why did he fasten me to the bed like a _whore_! He left me to be humiliated!" She snatched up another tissue and pressed her face into it, trying to keep from breaking down.

Sydney thought about the moment he had burst into the hotel room, the horror on Miss Parker's face. Sure, Jarod had set up plenty of practical jokes to embarrass her in the past, but this went way beyond a joke. If nothing else, Jarod was an unswervingly moral man. He would _never _use sex as a way to hurt someone, least of all the one woman he truly cared for...

"I don't believe that Jarod wanted to hurt you."

"Why, because your Golden Boy has always been _soo_ nice to me?" she spat in reply.

Sydney opened the top drawer of his desk and took out the hotel alarm-clock-spring-release device Jarod had rigged up. Parker stared at it.

"How did you get _that_?"

"I went back for it. I felt it was important somehow, and now I think I understand. Jarod had a very different plan for that morning. Unfortunately I interfered with it. I think it's me you should be angry at, not Jarod."

She wiped her eyes one last time and looked at the psychiatrist coldly. "How's that, Syd, where the two of you planning a surprise party or something?" Sydney noticed that she had dropped back to her defensive, icy tone of voice.

"This timer was set to go off at seven thirty. The key would have dropped and been right there for you when you woke up. It was only that I came early to pick you up. Jarod didn't want to humiliate you, in fact, he never imagined anyone would find you."

"So why cuff me at all?"

"You really think that he would just wait for you to get up and bring him back to the Centre? He had to give himself time to escape, don't you see? But he left you the means to free yourself without anyone ever finding out what happened."

For a moment Parker simply stared into space, her mind moving from scepticism to realisation, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. Jarod had rigged it up so she could let herself out! He gave himself time to get away, but had meant for her to wake up, find a key sitting right next to her, and simply leave, no one the wiser. How was he to know Sydney would turn up? She purposefully shut up the little voice which reminded her it was her shouting that had drawn Sydney in there.

She closed her eyes, her disobedient mind flying back to that night, the heat of it, the pleasure... she remembered lying in his arms, the covers thrown haphazardly on the floor...

Fast-forwarding to that dreadful morning, she remembered that she had awoken carefully covered up. Once again, as much as she wanted to hate Jarod for orchestrating her shame, the opposite was true, he had tucked her in like a tender lover, saving her from an even greater embarrassment had she been found completely nude.

This was impossible! She'd been torturing herself for days over the deception, letting her bitterness consume her, dreaming of revenge, and now all of a sudden she saw Jarod's point of view. One night was all he asked for, and even if it did change the way they felt about each other, he was still a hunted man, and he wasn't going to make her have to betray him. She could almost let her fury go, except for one thing...

"Miss Parker," Sydney's gentle tone infiltrated her epiphany, "Are you alright now? Often learning the truth only leads to more questions..."

"There's just one question, Sydney. If Jarod never intended to hurt me, why hasn't he tried to contact me? He used to call me all hours of the goddamn night before this."

Sydney frowned. "Jarod has probably been just as confused by the incident as you have. You've had a complicated relationship all your life, but now..."

"Well, he's doing a great job making me feel like a one-shot." She got out of her chair and started for the door. Sydney followed hastily.

"Parker, try to see how he might feel--"

At the door, she turned, all business. "Thanks, Syd, really. You've cleared up a lot for me. But at the end of the day, I've got a job to do, and I'm gonna do it. Let me know if Romeo tries to contact you." Parker walked out and closed Sydney's door firmly behind her.

**End of Part Five**


	6. Patient J

**_Mint On The Pillow_**

**Part Six - Patient J**

Ten days went by and the Centre had no hint of the Pretender's whereabouts. Broots was occupied, running phone traces and other such fruitless e-reconnaissance.

Angelo had been set to scanning newspapers for Jarod-worthy cases. In a dark, subterranean sim-lab, he sat on the floor surrounded by countless local and national papers, tabloid rags and respectable broad-sheets alike. One by one he picked them up, ruffled quickly through their pages and tossed them aside, not reading a word, but _feeling _every article to his core. Many of them bore just the kind of injustice that Jarod would be drawn to, but they didn't really concern Angelo. He was searching for another story.

The moment he touched _The Minneapolis Independent_, he was flooded with feelings. Flipping directly to the middle page, he traced his fingers over the headline: PROFESSOR IN HIT-AND-RUN HORROR.

"Jarod hurt..." he mumbled anxiously to himself.

The door clicked open and Mr. Raines' stepped in, dragging his oxygen tank behind him.

"Well, Angelo? Do you have any ideas where Jarod might be?" the doctor demanded in his raspy voice.

Angelo pushed one newspaper out towards Raines with a vacant expression... _The Houston Times._

- - - - - - - - - -

Minneapolis General Hospital was a labyrinth of pain, Suzie decided, and said so to her colleague.

Trying to keep pace with her, striding down corridor after confusing corridor, Karl looked at her stormy expression, her black mood so obviously being cultivated by more than the traumatic events of the last week.

"I'm guessing you have some residual hospital-related issues to deal with."

She shot him a silencing glare which would have made anyone else drop the topic like a hot potato, but not Karl. He placed a hand on her shoulder, slowing her hurried pace to match his.

"Don't be like this, Suzie. We always knew there was more to Jarod than he let on."

They came to an intersection of corridors and headed right, to the ICU.

Suzie looked briefly down to the silver briefcase Karl carried. Jarod had brought it with him to every class, but never opened it.

"_More_, yeah, but I thought 'undercover cop' or 'ex-con-turned-shrink looking to redeem himself.' I wouldn't have pegged him as a genius-guinea-pig on the run. It's a bit of a stretch, y'know!"

"Sure, but remember what he taught us on day one? Don't see the profile, see the person. Everybody has a past, but it's our job to stop it from destroying their future."

"Good to know you were paying attention. Maybe you can take over the class."

They carried right on through the double-doors into Intensive Care, stopping outside the second room on the left. A nurse approached: Amanda, the friendly Caribbean woman who'd been such a comfort when Suzie first followed the gurney bearing Jarod's battered body into the hospital.

"Hello Suzie, Karl," she greeted them warmly, her eyes sympathetic, "There's been no change, I'm afraid. You can go on in, but turn your cell-phones off." The students nodded their thanks and entered the dim room.

"Hi, Professor," Karl said gently to the sleeping form on the bed. The soft beeping of the ECG machine was the only response as he pulled up a couple of typically uncomfortable chairs. He looked over his shoulder, puzzled to see Suzie still standing at the door.

"You're not gonna sit down?"

"What's the use? He can't hear us anyway."

Karl sighed. Far and away the most intuitive psychiatrist in his class, he could tell Suzie was being difficult to cover her deeper emotions; fear that Jarod would die, sorrow and anger at discovering the teacher she had a huge crush on was not all he appeared, and the trauma of finding him, bloodied and dying, in an alley beside the Majestic Hotel.

"How do you know? He is a special kinda guy." _Really special_, he thought, remembering last night, when, after days of wrestling with their consciences, they'd finally sat down to watch disc after disc of disturbing footage from Jarod's precious case. Professor J. Sydney was _definitely _not the man his students thought he was.

"Pretender." She almost spat the word out. "Why can't he pretend his way out of a coma, then?"

"For Christ's sake, Suzie! Why did you want to come visit him if you're just going to stand in the corner and bitch?"

She folded her arms in reply.

"Look, I know you're feeling all betrayed, yada yada, but if nothing else you could have some goddamn compassion! Whatever else he is, he's a great teacher, and a friend! I can't believe you're being so childish about this."

Karl held his breath and waited. If this was a professional case, he knew this kind of accusation would be absolutely out of line, but he had known Suzie for a long time. She only reacted to challenges.

Suzie stared hard at her friend, then at 'Professor' Jarod. She huffed out a long breath and let her arms drop, stepping over to the chair.

"You're right. Damn it, Karl, you're always right. I don't know the kid in those discs, I only know _this _Jarod." She took hold's of Jarod's hand and squeezed it, whispering an apology.

Karl sighed in relief. Suzie was a complicated girl.

"We, err, watched your discs, Jarod," Karl spoke softly, in truth not knowing if his words would be heard at all, but feeling the need to tell their friend the truth, "We know about The Centre and all that--"

"Pretty freaky, them keeping you locked up all your life!" Suzie interjected, then turned to Karl, "And I guess we know why he called himself Dr. Sydney... huh, I thought _I_ had paternal issues!"

"Yeah, and to think that Parker woman who came snooping last week was once that sweet little girl--"

Their speculation was cut off by the sudden whine of the ECG going flat-line. Other alarms set off too, and Karl and Suzie leaped to their feet and out of the door, yelling for help.

A doctor raced down the corridor towards them, followed a little way behind by two nurses with a trolley of defibrillator equipment. As they barged into the room, Suzie tried to follow, but Amanda turned briefly back to their worried faces.

"You'll have to stay outside, kids. I'm sorry."

They peered in through the window as the professionals set to resuscitating Jarod. Somewhere in his chaotic mind, Karl thought of the little card which they had found in the briefcase...

_"In the event of my death please contact Sydney at the following number..."_

**End of Part Six**


	7. In The Event Of My Death

**_M_****_int On The Pillow_**

**__**

Author's Note: Please forgive my painfully slow updating of this fic... I'm in the process of moving to Australia. No excuse, really... but well, I beg your indulgence whilst I try to both write and pack in double quick time!

**Part Seven - In The Event Of My Death...**

Saturday... finally. Miss Parker decided she could officially call this one of the worst weeks of her life. No one got killed, but apart from that...

At 11am, she figured she should probably get up. She'd been awake for hours, unable to quiet her mind. The agony was that she simply couldn't draw a definite conclusion. No matter what she told Sydney, her mind changed on the subject of _that_ night, and Jarod in general almost hourly. _Well_, she told herself_, today is Saturday, one day when work WILL NOT invade my time._ The realistic part of her mind knew it wasn't true, but at least it made her get out of bed.

She took a long shower, and was just on her way to the kitchen, dressed in a warm bathrobe, when there was an insistent knocking on her front door. She opened it to find Broots, of all people, staring back at her. He was obviously about to say something, but he was caught by her unprofessional appearance and couldn't seem to raise his eyes to hers.

"You should see me without the robe," she taunted cruelly, well aware of the geek's crush on her. He gulped visibly and cleared his throat.

"M-miss Parker, you aren't answering your phone."

"I unplugged it," she leaned forward a little, her voice low, "I didn't want to be disturbed."

Broots backed away from the warning in her voice. Man, he was going to get it on Monday morning!

"Um, Sydney was trying to reach you. He said he couldn't wait for you but you should follow him to Minneapolis."

Parker felt her stomach knot up. What had the prying shrink dug up now?

"He said to tell you it's about Romeo...?" Broots delivered the bizarre message, still wondering at the secrecy with which Sydney had entrusted it to him. Perhaps Romeo was another ward of the Centre, or some kernel of Miss Parker's foggy past... He looked back to Miss Parker, who had gone pale at the mention of the name. She also had that look like she was about to strangle someone.

"Look, err, don't shoot the messenger and all that," he said hurriedly, "Anyway, I've gotta get back for Debbie's netball practise..." He practically bolted back to his car, leaving Miss Parker with her mystery. These were the days he thanked god for having a normal life, or as normal as working for the Centre would allow.

- - - - - - - - - -

Sydney was usually an extremely calm person. Psychiatry was not the sort of profession which attracted the judgmental or panicky. But this was not an ordinary morning, and his patience was being pushed to the limit as the plane kept circling, waiting for the disorganisation of a control tower glitch to be sorted out. For the umpteenth time he cursed his bad judgement at taking a commercial flight. If he was in the Centre jet they'd have put down at a private airfield hours ago... but to requisition the jet required an explanation he was not willing to give.

With dawn just beginning to tinge the horizon, Sydney could see the city of Minneapolis stretched out beneath. He may have found it beautiful, except that he knew somewhere in that urban sprawl there was a hospital in which Jarod lay dying.

"Come on, come on!" he muttered under his breath, "_Merde_!"

"French, huh?" said the crisp-suited businessman beside him.

"Belgian," he replied absently, "What the hell is taking so long!"

"Calm down, buddy, we'll be on the ground in no time. Honestly, I'm in no hurry to get to _my_ appointment. How about you?"

The young man's cheerfulness irritated Sydney more than he thought possible. He turned to him with a hard look.

"My son is dying."

- - - - - - - - - -

Parker drove with one hand on the wheel, the other clasping her cell phone to her ear. For the third time in an hour, she was getting Sydney's infuriatingly polite voicemail message.

"Syd, you're the one who wanted me to come urgently, you could at least answer your damn phone!" She yelled after the beep, "Anyway I'm on my way to the airport, and I'll be in Minneapolis in four hours, okay?"

She tossed the phone angrily onto the passenger seat. The familiar constant ache from her stomach ulcer was becoming a persistent stabbing under the pressure and the fear of whatever it was had gotten Sydney so worried he would just take off without her. He wasn't exactly prone to impulsive behaviour, but then, where Jarod was concerned, Parker knew where Syd's true loyalties lay. After all they had uncovered together about the secrets festering at the heart of the Centre, she had no illusions about him still working to bring the Pretender in. That was _her _job.

- - - - - - - - - -

Sydney hurried through the dully-painted hospital maze, following signs for the ICU. He wanted to sprint all the way there, but had already been reprimanded once for running through the entrance lobby.

At last he located the right room and looked in through the window. Seated by the bed was the boy who had called him, Karl, accompanied by another of Jarod's psychiatry students.

He remembered Miss Parker's earlier tirade on the humiliation of once again being a pawn in the Pretender's games. She had gone to the university expecting to get intel on his whereabouts and instead found herself bombarded with deeply personal questions, as Jarod had told the students to evaluate _her_ as their end-of-term assignment!

Just to the right of the door hung Jarod's medical chart on a clipboard. Sydney glanced at it and immediately did a double-take on the name: Jarod Sydney. He smiled sadly at the joke.

"You'd be Sydney then?" the voice made him start, and he looked up into Karl's weary face and nodded.

"Yes. Thank you for calling me."

"It wasn't up to me," Karl's voice was low, "Jarod left a note. I suppose you people needed to be notified that the chase is over, huh."

Sydney's heart almost stopped at that. "He's... dead?" He wouldn't believe it, he couldn't. He craned to look past Karl into the room. Jarod lay still as a corpse, but he couldn't see the monitor...

Karl steeled himself for the lie. He would tell Sydney that Jarod was dead; he and Suzie had decided that last night. It was the only way to protect their friend. As it was Jarod may not live out the day, but if anyone from the Centre believed him to be alive, even barely, they'd take him away...

_Just tell him!_ Karl looked at the old man; his whole body tense with grief, his eyes desperate, and knew that he could not. He put a hand on Sydney's shoulder.

"He nearly died last night, but they resuscitated him. The doctor's fairly certain he won't make it," his voice croaked as he spoke.

Sydney nodded, his expression hollow, and went into the room. The girl who sat at the bedside jumped up as he entered, glaring at him with undisguised contempt. Sydney suspected they had watched the DSAs; now he was certain of it. Somehow the thought that she saw him only as a monster who kept a child imprisoned for research cut him to the core. He wanted to apologise, to beg her understanding, but she strode quickly out of the room.

Exhausted with worry, he sat down beside the bed and looked at Jarod, at the boy genius he had raised, at the man who had spent so little time out in the real world, but had made such a difference to so many.

"Jarod," he spoke gently, "It's Sydney. You're safe here, I promise. I won't let anyone find you. I know you can survive this, just... take your time."

Sydney took Jarod's hand, remembering with a pang of grief how many times he'd sat like this holding the hand of his comatose brother, Jacob. Why was he always the one sat beside dying loved-ones? He felt keenly that, for his crimes, it should be him lying there now.

He looked intently at his pupil's face, noted how the serious expression he had worn all his life still lingered. In the years since Jarod had escaped, Sydney had only seen him face to face a few times, and every time his first thought had been to make sure he was okay. In the beginning, he had hoped Jarod could simply be _persuaded _to come back to the Centre, because Sydney feared for his mental health outside the only environment he had ever known. Now he knew more about the Centre's dark dealings, he had come to loathe his employers more than ever and secretly prayed that they would never catch their prize subject. In his own small way Sydney worked to discover Jarod's true identity, to make amends for his past deeds. But all that would for nothing if he died.

He reached into his inside pocket and brought out a set of rosary beads that had belonged to his mother, bowed his head low, and began his fervent pleas to God to spare Jarod's life.

Suzie watched from outside, a battle of opinions raging inside her. Ever since she first saw the discs she had made up her mind about what kind of man Sydney was: cold-hearted, unscrupulous and manipulative. That a psychiatrist would ever willingly participate in experiments on children, knowing the lasting effects on the developing mind... it made her sick, and so angry she felt sure she would want to strangle this man on sight, but now...

"Hard to know what to think, isn't it?" Karl spoke her own thoughts out loud as he appeared at her side with two cups of coffee. Suzie took one cup with a grateful nod.

"You're telling me. Remember what the professor told us on the last day? He said, 'The only harmful opinion is a fixed one.' If a shrink can't change his mind, how can he expect his patients to?"

"Sounds like you were paying attention too. I know what you mean. I wanted to hate Sydney, but now it's clear we don't know the whole story." He gestured to the praying Sydney, "_That_ isn't the behaviour of a scientist. He looks more like--"

"A father?" Miss Parker's deep, velvety tone finished Karl's sentence from just behind.

Startled, the students spun round to see the lady they had met ten days ago, her cool grey eyes looking past them and into the dim room.

"Err... Miss... Parker?" Karl ventured. She fixed him with a piercing glare.

"Way to go, Einstein. Now, you had better tell me _exactly_ what is the situation here, omitting _all _psyche-bullshit! Talk."

Karl gulped and glanced briefly at Suzie before beginning. He remembered their last meeting with the volatile Miss Parker, and how a few caustic phrases had sent some of the more timid of Jarod's students running for cover.

"The, err, Professor was in a hit-and-run on Jude Street, the day after you were here. Suzie found him, but he was really badly injured... dying."

Miss Parker struggled to keep at bay emotions so powerful they threatened to crack her mask of icy professionalism. It had been a rollercoaster of confusion and fear ever since she stepped off the plane. A scruffy boy of around twelve had been waiting at the Arrivals gate, holding a scrawled sign for PARKER. The brat had told her some old man paid him twenty dollars to meet her here and give her a note. The note said simply to go to the hospital; it didn't need to say more.

"What's the prognosis?" she stuttered, trying to maintain her cool detachment, but still aware that these were trainee psychiatrists, bound to spot the flaws in her act.

"It's not good." Karl told her quietly.

She blinked away the forming tears, determined that the infuriating youths wouldn't get an opportunity to play counsellors to her grief, and stepped to the door.

"Right, well, I'm fairly sure recess is over by now so why don't you kids run along?"

Suzie glared hard at Miss Parker and folded her arms, purposefully blocking the door. Miss Parker met her gaze, and the two women stared stubbornly at each other for a moment, both refusing to back down. Karl grasped Suzie's arm lightly, breaking the tension.

"We'll be staying right here Miss Parker," the subtext was clear: they weren't going to let her take him. _Like they could do anything to stop me, if I wanted to..._ Miss Parker thought, but acknowledged the warning in Karl's voice with a nod.

Suzie grudgingly moved aside, and Miss Parker went ahead into Jarod's room.

Sydney looked up as she entered, and as she met his harried eyes she knew exactly how much danger Jarod was in.

"Hell of a thing, Syd. For once we have your lab-rat right here for the taking..."

"Miss Parker, you _cannot_--" she cut off his insistent plea with a wave of her hand.

"--And we aren't gonna do a damn thing because he's at death's door."

Sydney, half out of his chair, sat back down with a sigh.

"But then, you never really wanted to catch him, did you?"

The shrink didn't look up. "I did once. When he first escaped, all I could think about was getting him back, resuming our work. But that was before I let myself see the truth about what I've been doing all these years, what I've denied him. The chase aside, Miss Parker, even _you _have to admit he's done wonderful things with his freedom."

"He's a saint," she replied blandly. Her heart screamed at her how insensitive she was being, how she should be comforting Sydney, even trying to talk to Jarod, to encourage him back from the brink, but all that would have to wait until she was alone. No one, not even the shrink who knew her real, feeling self so well, could be allowed to see her break down.

And she knew she would. It was only a matter of time before the dam broke. Ever since their one night together, time she'd been furious with Jarod for not calling her, wounded to the core, sure that any excuse of his would not be good enough. Now the guilt of her own self-absorption welled up and mingled with the fear of truly losing him...

Sydney's eyes were on Jarod's face again, desolate. "A saint perhaps, but for that he would have to die."

**End of Part Seven**


	8. It Never Raines But It Pours

**_Mint On The Pillow_**

**Part Eight - It Never Raines But It Pours**

Angelo sat alone, cross-legged on the floor. The room was dark, except for a shaft of light from the small barred window.

He didn't like this room; he wasn't used to being at ground level, and although the air was cooler and fresher, there were no ventilation tunnels; his secret routes around the Centre were out of reach.

But none of that mattered now, his mind was elsewhere. His extraordinary empathic ability let him feel what others felt all around him, and also allowed him to extrapolate the emotions of people much further away. The Centre doctors believed that this quality had long ago overridden his own emotions, that Angelo was simply a receiver for the signals others sent out. But for all that his brain had been confused and his perceptions damaged by a whole life spent in confinement, the boy that was once Timmy could still feel.

He sobbed quietly, his hands balled into fists, rubbing his eyes and tugging his hair, rocking back and forth mechanically. He remembered looking out through slatted vents, day after day, year after year at the boy Jarod and recalled the conversations they had at night. A bright boy and a dedicated friend who never forgot him after escaping, still communicated with him in secret, and had even tried to cure him and set him free.

Then there was the little lady, Miss Parker. She gave him Cracker Jacks, spoke kindly to him a long time ago. She was in pain right now, too, and it only compounded his own. So much sadness... just sadness.

- - - - - - - - - -

Mister Raines watched on a little monitor as Angelo cried. This was a most interesting development, he thought. The empath had been moved upstairs to assess some newly acquired Centre subjects for emotional distress, and at surface level all rooms had tiny, invisible micro-cameras embedded into the ceiling for more discreet observation. It appeared Angelo thought he was not under surveillance this time.

Raines had recently begun to watch Angelo much more closely, for the first time beginning to realise that his broken boy may actually be capable of deception, that he was more than the obedient tool he was assumed to be. Could demented Angelo be the leak the Centre had been trying to discover ever since Jarod escaped? It seemed impossible, given his level of mental dysfunction, but nevertheless it was a subject to be explored, and a good use for one of his new young charges.

- - - - - - - - - -

Angelo looked up sharply as he heard the door handle click. He wiped his eyes hurriedly, expecting Raines to come squeaking in, but instead he was joined by a young boy of around ten.

"Hello," said the child tentatively.

Angelo stared at him, puzzled.

"I'm Sean. What's your name?"

"Angelo," he mumbled, feeling the boy's curiosity; shy but with positive intentions.

"Do you live here?"

Angelo nodded. Sean moved closer, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the gloom.

"Um, why are you crying?"

Angelo quickly dragged his sleeve across his eyes again, and a flash of memory seared through him, of himself asking the exact same question of another little boy, crouched in a corner twenty years ago.

"Friend... hurt."

"What friend? Is he here?"

Angelo shook his head. "Outside."

Sean went over to the wall, standing on tiptoes to look out of the tiny window.

"I don't see anyone."

"Outside the Centre."

"Oh, well, is he hurt bad?"

Angelo clenched his fists again as the sadness came back. "Dying..." he whispered.

Sean's clear blue eyes widened, concern flooding his young face. "Oh my god! We've gotta help him! Do you know where he is?"

Empathy was a strange gift, not the kind of thing which could be turned off or ignored. The second Sean had entered the room Angelo read his heart like a book. Real emotions could not be faked, and so no person alive could ever lie to him. The boy was genuine, open and compassionate, just like Jarod.

Angelo took out a many-folded page of a newspaper and spread it flat on the floor. Sean came and sat down before it, his worry evident as he read the article.

"This is a long way away. We should tell someone--"

Angelo shook his head emphatically in reply and brought a finger up to his lips.

"Shh... secret."

Sean nodded solemnly.

- - - - - - - - - -

Mr. Raines stared intently at the monitor. "Zoom in there, on the paper," he gruffly ordered the tech-officer at the console.

The tech nodded and the screen was filled with the article. Mr. Raines smiled evilly and went to retrieve his new Pretender. With some training, Sean would be very useful to the Centre.

- - - - - - - - - -

"Mr. Parker, we have a situation."

Parker looked up as Raines stomped up to his desk, his ghoulish face even more grim than normal, if that was possible.

"What is it, Raines?" Frankly he was in no mood to be bossed around by the invalid.

"It seems Angelo has been holding out on us."

Raines took a torn out page of a newspaper from his jacket and dropped it on the desk. A moment's perusal and Parker knew this wasn't just any situation, it was a prime Jarod-catching opportunity, perhaps the best they'd ever had.

"Get my daughter in here."

Mr. Raines' look darkened, but there was a hint of smugness about it.

"She's gone. So's Sydney."

"What?"

"They've been holding out on us too."

"That's preposterous. They must've found out about this and gone to bring Jarod in."

"Without telling anyone?"

Mr. Parker was beginning to look flustered, "Well, she's a proud girl," he floundered, "Doesn't want Brigitte or Lyle muscling in."

"We'll see about that."

- - - - - - - - - -

As the huge double doors of Mr. Parker's office opened and Raines left, Broots scurried around the corner and flattened himself against the wall, holding his breath and feeling his heart race.

A moment later, Mr. Parker emerged too, a troubled look clouding his face, and strode off quickly after Raines.

Broots peeked out, making sure the coast was clear, dashed across to the office and slipped silently in. There was no one still in there, thank god, and he leant against the door and breathed deep, calming breaths. He should be at ease with sneaking into his superiors' offices by now, Miss Parker had him doing it fairly regularly, but this was the first time he'd ever undertaken something like this of his own volition.

He knew something was very wrong, something so serious that neither Miss Parker or Sydney had felt able to tell him. He could have been hurt at their apparent lack of trust, but there were some subjects he knew they were ultra-sensitive about, and one above all. Broots had been involved in the search for Jarod from day one, and over two years of keeping his eyes and ears open he had come to understand the peculiar relationships between the scientist, the guinea-pig and the huntress. When Sydney and Miss Parker had returned from Minnesota last week there was an issue hanging in the air, and one which they had obviously gone back there to resolve.

In general he was happy to let their deep intrigues alone, except that he had a gut feeling things were about to be found out by more dangerous people than himself. He needed to know just what the Boss suspected, to keep Sydney and Miss Parker one step ahead. That was his _real _job these days.

He crept up to Mr. Parker's exquisite oak desk and opened the top drawer, flinching slightly as the first thing he saw was a gun. He tried another drawer, this one stuffed with papers, but he only needed the top one: a crumpled page of _The Minneapolis Independent_. He read for a few minutes, letting the reality of the situation sink in, and then snuck out of the office and retreated to the safety of his little computer room.

He dialled first Sydney's cell phone and then Miss Parker's, but both went straight to voicemail.

"Uh, Miss Parker, I just wanted to warn you that Mr. Raines has found out about Jarod's accident, and he's on his way..."

**End of Part Eight**


	9. A Simple Solution?

_**Mint On The Pillow**_

**Part Nine - A Sim-ple Solution?**

1.00am

The Homely Motel was anything but, Miss Parker noted bitterly as she stepped into her extremely basic room and shut the door against the cold February night. At least it was warm, there was a bed... she couldn't stop her eyes from wandering to the head of the bed and noticing that this low-budget establishment did not provide mints on the pillows. Thank goodness for small mercies.

That infuriatingly polite nurse had finally kicked all the visitors out at midnight, and being as she'd rather die than accept Suzie's offer of a spare bed in her student digs, she found herself reluctantly checking into the dubious comfort of the nearest motel away from the oppressive city centre.

Of course, she could have gone back to the Majestic Hotel; it was certainly more the style of accommodation she was accustomed to, but she knew that everything in that place would remind her of her last visit, of the hopes that were made and broken in Room 101. Then there was the macabre fact that Jarod had been hit right outside the hotel, mown down by a drunk driver who had only gathered his wits enough to drag his victim down the side alley and speed away. As sheer luck would have it, the bastard had been stopped by the police two miles down the road and found to be eight times over the legal limit. It was a good job he was already locked away awaiting his trial, because Miss Parker felt an overwhelming urge to put _him _in a coma.

She kicked off her shoes and flopped ungracefully down on the bed. Weary to her very core, she reached down to the floor where she'd dumped her bag and fished for the cigarettes she'd promised herself she would give up a long time ago. Tonight, she decided, was _not_ the night for quitting. As she rifled in her bag she found her phone and drew it out. It was turned off; hospital rules. She pressed the on button and lit a much-needed cigarette as the phone chimed to life, adding an extra little melody to signify a message received. With a sigh she stretched out on her back and let out a plume of smoke towards the ceiling as she held the phone to her ear.

- - - - - - - - - -

Sydney sat at the little coffee table in his room, the silver case open before him. He had wanted these discs back for so long; the only record of his life's work in the Pretender Project, but in truth he'd gladly give them up to have Jarod well again.

He picked a disc at random and inserted it into the player. A twelve-year old Jarod stared back, strapped into a full-size model race car. Most children would have considered it a fabulous toy, but Jarod's young face was filled with dread.

"The brakes are out! I can't stop! Aaaaarrrghhh!"

Sydney put his hand to his forehead, guilt coursing though him as he saw himself in black and white, almost twenty years younger, pacing round the car yelling question after question at the distressed Pretender.

He hit the stop button and ejected it. Switching to a new disc, another scenario unfolded before him. Sydney closed his eyes and sat back, listening to Jarod's voice, measured and analytical. Such a remarkable intellect... if only he were here now, he could probably simulate a way out of his own predicament--

_But he did!_ Sydney sat up quickly and started to search through the discs, looking for a specific date: the week that he and his twin brother had been run off the road, leaving Jacob in a coma. He had been utterly distraught in the days following the accident, in his grief searching for any glimmer of hope to cling to. To that end he'd asked Jarod to perform a new simulation, one not ordered by the Centre...

He found the disk and set it to play.

- - - - - - - - - -

**CENTRE ARCHIVES : JAROD **

**08/12/1967 09:20**

A younger Sydney crouched down in front of the boy.

"Jarod, I have a favour to ask you."

"What is it, Sydney?"

"You have to promise me that you'll keep it a secret. This is a simulation which I hope will answer a question I have--"

"Will it make you happy again? You've been sad this week." The perceptive child commented.

Sydney put his hands on the boy's shoulders, "Perhaps. Now, I would like for you to determine the likelihood that a comatose patient can actually hear the world around him, even if he is unable to respond..." he handed Jarod a printout of charts and numbers, "And, given these statistics, calculate the probability of recovery."

Jarod nodded and went quietly to the far corner of the room, sat down and started to study the paper.

**CENTRE ARCHIVES : JAROD **

**08/13/1967 11.18**

A whole day later, Jarod was still in exactly the same position, frowning. Finally he got up went over to a table at which Sydney sat.

"Well, Jarod? What are your findings?"

"In this case there's an 89 percent chance that the patient is aware of his surroundings,"

Sydney smiled slightly at this, "Go on."

"Sydney, there's no accurate prediction I can make about recovery. There is no current _treatment _that could cure him, but..." he glanced back at his paper and placed it face down on the table, "I think it depends on the will of the individual."

"And do you think there is anything that can assist the patient, give him strength to fight?"

The boy though about this for a moment, his face solemn in concentration. "He needs a reason to wake up... to be reminded of something unfinished in his life. I think he would only wake up to resolve a very important issue." He declared with confidence.

- - - - - - - - - -

Sydney closed the silver briefcase and grabbed his cell phone, hastily dialling Miss Parker's number. For the first time since he laid eyes on Jarod's battered body in the hospital, the psychiatrist began to feel hope.

He'd only just pressed the call button when an impatient banging on his door made him jump. He opened it to find Miss Parker right outside, her coat pocket ringing. Without invitation she barged in and whirled around to face him.

"We've got a big problem, Syd. Raines is on his way with the Terrible Two."

"What!"

"Broots called; you didn't check your messages either, then."

"How could they have found out?"

"It doesn't matter how!" Miss Parker was practically yelling, "We have three hours at most before that hospital gets flooded with Sweepers and _we _get done for aiding and abetting!"

As Miss Parker's anxious pacing continued, Sydney simply sat down on the edge of the coffee table, staring fixedly at the floor, his phone still held loosely in his hand.

Miss Parker looked at the entranced shrink and cursed silently. She stepped over to him and lowered her face to within two inches of his.

"Sydney!" she barked, "This is no time to go catatonic! We have to--"

Sydney's unfocused eyes snapped up to meet hers, then. "Miss Parker," he cut her off in a low, dangerous whisper, "I'm _thinking_."

Parker backed away, exasperated. Sydney rose and turned his attention back to the cell phone, dialling again.

"Karl? This is Sydney. I need you and Suzie to meet Miss Parker and I at the hospital right away."

"You sound like a man with a plan," Miss Parker commented dryly as Sydney snatched up his tweed jacket and headed for the door, "It is just for shrinks or do you care to let me play?"

Sydney looked at her levelly, "How about a game of _pretend_?"

**End of Part Nine**


	10. A Dangerous Game

**_Mint On The Pillow_**

**Part Ten - A Dangerous Game**

The hospital corridors were even more confusing in the dim, night-time lighting, but Sydney was more concerned with keeping quiet than getting lost as he followed along behind Suzie and Karl.

The pair were dressed in blue porters' uniforms pilfered from the basement laundry where they snuck into the hospital, and Sydney wore a crisp white doctors' coat and an official name badge. The 'porters' pushed a gurney between them, and thankfully they didn't meet anyone on their way to Jarod's room.

Sydney stepped over to the far side of the bed and put his hand on Jarod's forehead.

"Jarod," he whispered, "I promised I wouldn't let them find you... now you have to promise me you'll survive this."

He took the drip-bag feeding into Jarod's wrist off its hook and laid it on his chest. His heart in his mouth, he unhooked the wires from the ECG machine, and the monitor immediately screeched a flat-line tone. He shut off the whine quickly.

Together the three of them positioned themselves around Jarod, and, at Sydney's count, all lifted together, manhandled him onto the waiting gurney and then hurriedly wheeled their patient out into the dim corridors.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Two floors up, Erin the ward sister sat idly at the Psychiatric Unit reception desk, filing her nails with care. This late at night, she had a fairly easy time of it: all her 'crazies' were sound asleep. Of course there was always the chance that poor Mr. DeLaney would wake screaming about the aliens coming for him...

"Excuse me, Nurse... Wright?"

Erin sat up straight, startled, and quickly laid her nail file aside as she looked up to see the doctor in front of her, staring quizzically at her faded name-badge.

"Um, Wight, actually. Can I help you, Doctor?" She glanced past the him to the gurney attended by two anxious-looking young porters. Poor kids, it was always the trainees who pulled the graveyard shift.

"Yes, I need a bed for this patient. He's up from the ICU."

"Why? He gone crazy on you?"

"No, we just need the space down there."

Erin thumbed through her briefing notes from the day-staff, "Well, I'm sorry doctor but any transfers need to be authorised by--"

"It's not a transfer, exactly..." He cut her off. She glared at him suspiciously, her hand instinctively moving to hover over the security call-button. The doctor looked defeated for a moment, then leaned forwards, glancing around him as though the place weren't utterly deserted.

"Look, he'll be dead before morning, and his bed's needed for someone else. I was told to leave him in the corridor, but..."

The nurse saw the struggle in the doctor's kind eyes. She knew exactly how he felt; no one should be left to die in a corridor.

"I just need somewhere to park him. Please?"

She nodded sympathetically. "Number twelve's free." She waved the porters on through as the doctor smiled his thanks and followed.

- - - - - - - - - -

Dawn couldn't be long off now. The sky to the east was already beginning to lighten, Miss Parker noted, the ache in her stomach getting a little sharper with the stress. She stood looking out of the window at the tarmac ribbon stretching away towards the eastern horizon. As a child she had loved the early morning, used to watch the sunrise with her mother and then the two of them would make her father breakfast-in-bed.

Right now, though, the dawn only brought the Centre tag-team closer to their prize, or was that _prizes_? Miss Parker knew they wanted Jarod captured and her and Sydney shamed, proven to be incompetent or worse: treacherous. This was the first time they'd ever been right.

Her rational side still couldn't believe what she was doing: playing an active role in keeping Jarod on the outside, after devoting years to bringing him in! She should be waiting here with Golden Boy in chains, comatose or not. But all thanks to her damned conscience, she was going to put her own head on the block and lie to Raines. It was ludicrous, the whole scheme, and very likely to fail. Mr. Raines could read people almost as well as Angelo, and he was obviously already suspicious of her.

_Here they come,_ she gulped, the private jet a sudden dark spot from the south-east, circling in for the approach.

Within ten minutes the plane was taxiing up, and Miss Parker steeled herself and strode out onto the runway as the steps dropped.

Mr. Raines was the first one out, scowling all the way down as a black-suited sweeper carried his oxygen tank just behind.

Lyle and Brigitte followed, both with a look of surprise to see her there, waiting for them, but Raines only glared menacingly at her.

"I see Mr. Broots' has kept you informed," he rasped, a sneer of contempt for the little computer-technician lingering on his sallow face, "Well?"

"Well?" Miss Parker echoed, folding her arms in defiance.

"Where's Jarod?" Brigitte spoke up in her always petulant tone, "Or have you and Sydney hidden him away somewhere?" She exchanged a smug glance with Lyle at that.

"Actually, _Bridget_," she purposefully mispronounced the name as usual, "He's hidden himself away. Probably as far away as possible."

"You're lying," Raines accused, reaching into his pocket and producing the newspaper piece, "There's no way he can even be _walking _according to this."

"As usual your information is out-of-date. Jarod _was_ here, and he was a professor, but not _that_ professor. Does the article mention any names?"

Raines scanned the page again briefly, frowning. It was Miss Parker's turn to look smug, even if it was entirely feigned.

"Looks like you dragged yourselves all the way out here for nothing."

Raines wasn't falling for it. He turned to his 'pet' sweeper.

"Bring the car around. We're going to the hospital."

- - - - - - - - - -

Miss Parker's heart was pounding in her chest as she followed the posse into Intensive Care. She touched the gun at her side anxiously. She had wanted to shoot Raines any number of times, and Sydney actually _had_, but she wondered if today was the day she would finally make the Centre's hit-list herself.

Raines stomped up to Jarod's room with surprising speed given his invalidity, and barged in, a gleeful, expectant look on his face. The look fell away as he saw the empty bed, sheets drawn back, all machinery switched off.

"Miss Parker..." he began, his tone almost a growl.

"Mister Raines, in here," A sweeper interrupted him, pointing to the waiting room opposite. They crossed quickly and burst in. Sydney sat in an armchair, leaning across a coffee table and talking in soothing tones to a young man and woman on a sofa.

Sydney jumped to his feet as the door banged open. Suzie and Karl turned to face the intruders, surprise on their tear-streaked faces. Sydney put a calming hand on each of the students' shoulders, then stepped to the door and shooed Raines back out into the corridor.

"Raines," Sydney's tone was hushed, but angry, "For God's sake, have some compassion. They're grieving."

Raines actually looked flustered. "Who are they?"

"They're Jarod's students, from his last pretend as a professor of--"

"Cut the crap, Sydney! Where is Jarod?" Lyle demanded loudly. Sydney turned to Miss Parker, confused.

"I thought you told them..." Parker shrugged her response. "He's not here. As far as we know, he returned to capture the driver who killed Professor Yeoman, but left before we arrived."

Raines' face was flushed with rage, "Somebody better start making sense!"

"Well, if His Wheeziness would care to _listen _for a moment," Miss Parker's velvety tone was filled with scorn, "As I _tried _to mention earlier, Jarod was not the one in the accident. His replacement was. Sydney and I came because we thought Jarod might come back to play Florence Nightingale..."

"Which he did," Sydney finished for her, "Apparently he apprehended the drunk-driver, but the Professor was too far gone. He died a few hours ago."

Lyle looked equally furious at all this, and snatched up the chart on the wall outside Jarod's room. Sure enough, the patient's name was Gareth Yeoman, and the word 'DECEASED' was rubber-stamped across the front page.

Raines turned to Brigitte and rasped, "Find out if they're telling the truth." Brigitte nodded and went into the waiting room, Lyle following. Sydney turned to go back in too, but Raines stopped him.

"You two wait out here," he croaked menacingly, and went into the little room.

As soon as they were alone, Miss Parker let her breath out slowly. "You've got some brass ones, Syd. Seems Jarod taught you a thing or two." She peered in at the ongoing interrogation of the students. Suzie had her face buried in Karl's comforting arms, sobbing as the young man told the story in an Oscar-winning performance. Raines, Brigitte and Lyle looked angry, but seemed to believe what the kids said.

Sydney's phone beeped subtly, then, and he answered it.

"Doctor? It's Nurse Wight from Psyche-ward. Your patient just crashed, and we need to know if he has resuss-orders, 'cause if he's dying anyway..."

"Yes! Yes, resuscitate him!" Sydney gasped, then, with great effort recovering his professional tone, he added, "I mean, there are relatives on their way who, ah, requested that--"

"Okay, doctor, we're on it." The nurse confirmed quickly.

As Sydney flipped the phone closed, his face was white with fear. He turned to Miss Parker.

"You have to go to him: two floors up, the Psychiatric Ward."

"What--?" she began, but Sydney grabbed her arm urgently.

"Parker! Listen, you can save him! Only _you _can!" She looked utterly baffled at this. "You have to tell him your feelings... he will hear you, he'll come back, I know it! Unfinished business, Miss Parker! Do you understand!"

Miss Parker understood. In all the fear of Raines' arrival and their elaborate deception, she'd momentarily forgotten the reason behind it all. Jarod was dying, and in a heartbeat all the feelings that had been choking her since Valentine's night came rushing back, jolting her into action. She looked into Sydney's desperate eyes, nodded and rushed off towards the elevator.

**End of Part Ten**


	11. Unfinished Business

_**Mint On The Pillow**_

**Part Eleven - Unfinished Business**

Miss Parker's mind was a whirl of feelings and anxieties as she hurried into the Psychiatric Ward reception area.

"Can I help you, ma'am?" Parker was snapped out of her preoccupation by Nurse Wight's crisp tone, "Visiting hours don't actually start 'till 9.30..."

"There's a man here - Jarod, he's, err, in a coma...?" Parker kept it vague, as she had no idea what story Sydney had told the nurse.

"Oh, yeah, the doctor said there were relatives coming in... so, you'd be his...?"

Miss Parker floundered for an answer to that.

"...Wife? Girlfriend?" The nurse prompted.

"Something like that. Look, can I see him? I _need_ to see him."

Of course it was against the rules to allow visitors before time, but then, the man shouldn't even be in her ward in the first place. The comatose patient was certainly at death's door, and there was no way Erin was going to be the one who kept someone from saying a last goodbye to their lover. She smiled gently and beckoned the woman to follow her along the corridor to room twelve. At the door, she turned to the lady.

"Go on honey. Let him hear your voice."

Parker nodded her thanks and stepped into the dim room.

- - - - - - - - - -

Sydney was not a person who usually felt stressed; that was more Miss Parker's department, but if anything was going to give _him_ a stomach ulcer it was this: right now, standing helpless out in the corridor waiting to see if his ruse to throw Raines off Jarod's scent had worked, and at the same time wondering if Jarod was still alive to benefit from it.

He could only pray that Miss Parker was up to the task. She could hold her own in most matters of her job, but matters of the heart were a distinct weakness for her. Having stifled her feelings for so long, would she now be able to open up to Jarod, to give him that vital reason to fight his way back to life?

His anxious speculation was interrupted as Lyle stepped out of the waiting room, glaring with undisguised hatred at Sydney. Brigitte's look was equally sour, and Raines, the last to emerge, fixed his fellow scientist with a contemptuous glare.

"Two opportunities to catch Jarod in the same place and you failed at both. This is a new record, Sydney. Rest assured, the Tower will be notified of this latest incompetence."

Sydney made no attempt to dispute the reprimand. "Do you think the students know anything more that could help us track him?"

"They're useless, like everything else here," Lyle moaned angrily. He looked up and down the corridor, "Where's Miss Parker?"

"She was sick of waiting," Sydney replied delicately, "She went back to the guesthouse Jarod stayed at looking for clues--"

"Your never-ending search for clues, for those damn red books, is probably what's keeping you from catching him! Did you ever think he's probably misdirecting you on purpose?" Lyle snapped.

"Jarod is a creature of habit, Lyle. You forget that I raised him, and his journals have been the only constant in his life outside the Centre. He leaves them behind to keep me close--"

"Very touching," Raines cut him off, glowering scornfully, "But this connection will fade over time, and if Jarod disappears for good it's likely you will too."

Raines left the threat hanging and marched away, Brigitte and Lyle following. Sydney heard Raines bark at his aide to go ahead and ready the jet.

Sydney waited till they were completely out of sight, releasing his breath at last. He looked into the waiting room to see Suzie and Karl waiting there nervously, and beckoned them out with a smile of reassurance.

"I'm afraid to ask...?" Karl began as he stepped out.

"They believed you. They've returned to the Centre."

The students sighed their relief together.

"Thank you both for your help. Jarod owes you his life, and so do Miss Parker and I most likely. But we need to get upstairs at once: he isn't out of danger yet."

- - - - - - - - - -

Miss Parker stood in the corner of the murky little room, arms folded. She had paced round Jarod's bed about ten times already, trying to begin the impossibly one-sided conversation. After several false-starts, usually involving some sarcastic quip in keeping with their usual banter, she was suddenly struck by the stupidity of trying to argue with an unconsciousness person. Somehow there was just no point in speaking if he couldn't reply; it was like fencing without an opponent.

_Damn it!_ This would be so much easier if he would just wake up, give her one of those taunting smiles which made her blood boil with frustration...

"You make me so angry I could _scream_, Jarod!" she hissed at him from her corner. "I chase you all over the damn country, miss you by inches every time, and yet now here you are..."

She stepped over to him, looking at his face, cuts on his cheeks and chin, bandages round his head and on his arms, "...And _still_ you've beaten me! God knows how you do it, but you always win, don't you?" She gestured emphatically around at the heart-monitor beside him and the crash-cart at the ready on the other side of the room like he could see her, "This isn't playing fair, Jarod. How can I compete with _this_?"

She paced back towards the door, feeling the lump in her throat grow, unsure whether she was upset or simply furious. It didn't matter. Sydney had always counselled her to voice her feelings, not keep them bottled up as she always had done, but until now there had always been a degree of decorum to maintain, even, and especially, with Jarod. But for once he couldn't answer back, couldn't judge her. As long as he was gonna lie here and take it, she was going to let loose her pent up frustrations.

"Why couldn't we just leave it like it was before? You run, I chase... I wouldn't have thought twice about dragging your ass back to the Centre right now. Suddenly we have this--" she didn't even know what to call it, "This _thing_ between us."

Her mind flew back once again to ten days ago, to the night and the morning that had changed her life. She threw up her hands in utter frustration. "God! I hate feeling like this! You remember when you told me my worst fear was being out of control? As much as I hate to admit it, you were right, Jarod. I don't know how to behave anymore. When I woke up and you were gone, I was so angry I could've killed you! I thought you of all people would never hurt me."

She looked back at him lying there, and again her breath caught in her throat as she tried to stifle the threatening storm of tears. She breathed deep and sat down in the hard plastic chair by the bed, placing a hand tentatively on his chest.

"Maybe I deserved it, huh? How could you trust that I would let you go, even after we-- You always have an escape route. Maybe I should get into the habit too. Raines is probably on his way up right now and we'll wind up in adjacent cells back at the Centre."

Jarod did not seem at all concerned by the prospect of capture, Parker noted. There was not even a flicker of recognition in him. Sydney had been so adamant that she could save him... once again the shrink gave her more credit than she deserved. She was no miracle-worker. Hell, her pessimistic ranting would probably push him further into the dark.

She thought of his many late-night phone calls over the years, how his words always touched a nerve, told her something about herself she didn't want to hear and encouraged her to change. Just like Sydney, Jarod never gave up on her, never stopped trying to reach the little girl he knew.

She reached up to brush an errant strand of dark hair away from his closed eyes. "I suppose I forgive you for not calling me, but we will have strong words about the handcuffs when you wake up," she tried to smile, to joke when all she felt was a suffocating sorrow.

"But you do have to _wake up!_ Please, Jarod. You have to do this. You know Sydney would be an absolute wreck if you died; he's practically your father and I know he loves you. Then there's all those plebs out there you seem moved to help. Who would the pathetic and downtrodden turn to if not you?"

She wiped a hand across her eyes, suddenly, alarmingly, realising that she had started crying. "And you have to come back for _me_. Like it or not you're the only reason I get up in the morning: to chase you. What would I do if I didn't have that? I need a purpose, Jarod, and you're it. I..." She was afraid, so very afraid to say it. Everyone she had said those three words to had died. But right now she knew that it had to be said, that Jarod would come back from the brink for no less.

"I need you, damn it. Jarod, I love you." She laid her head down on his chest, sobbing out the painful truth over and over.

- - - - - - - - - -

In the elevator trip up to the Psychiatric Ward, Sydney had told Karl and Suzie of that sim so many years ago, and the revelation it had prompted last night.

The three of them strode quickly past the Reception desk, nodding a greeting to Nurse Wight.

"We saw Miss Parker when she was young," Karl mentioned, "Her mother's murder really drove her into a shell. Do you think she'll be able to break it?"

They came to room twelve, and looked in.

"It looks like it," Sydney breathed, smiling with relief as he saw the moving scene within.

- - - - - - - - - -

Miss Parker's tears dampened the sheet as she buried her face into his chest. With the admission of her feelings had come a clarity she had never felt before: she simply knew that Jarod was the one person in the whole world that could breach her cynicism, her anger at the world, and make her feel human again. He had the patience and the optimism to see the woman she might have been if her mother had not died, if she had not been poisoned by the Centre.

And now she cried with the knowledge that this person, this saviour, was gone from her life. She remembered every touch he had ever given her, especially the most recent... just ten days ago she had been in his arms, listening to his smooth deep voice assuring her that everything would be okay, that he loved her, too.

A whisper of a touch on her hair... it must have been the wind, or the memory of his tenderness.

The gentlest caress... just her imagination, her heart refusing to let go.

"I love you," a breath on her neck. She looked up to his face. Jarod's bright brown eyes looked back.

"Oh my god!" she gasped.

"No, Miss Parker, it's just me." His smile, though weak, lit up the dim room. No answering quip, no rebuttal... she could only sob once more.

"I thought--" she began breathlessly.

Again his hand came up to her hair, moved to cup her cheek.

"Shhhhh. You think too much."

She moved in to kiss his contented smile, tenderly, desperately. He was awake, he came back... for her.

- - - - - - - - - -

Sydney watched, tears of joy brimming in his own eyes as they kissed. It had been a long time coming, and there had been times Sydney believed that not even Jarod could save Miss Parker from her own despair. But in the end, she had saved him.

After a decent interval, he knocked politely and entered.

"Hello Sydney," Jarod croaked.

"Welcome back, Jarod," the scientist smiled. Miss Parker turned to him, suddenly anxious.

"Raines--" she began. Sydney held up his hands in a calming gesture.

"He's gone. His belief in our incompetence has grown, but that's all."

The door swished slowly open and Karl and Suzie stepped in.

"Professor!" They exclaimed with relief, and ran over to clasp his hand in turn. Jarod nodded his thanks to the students.

Sydney coughed delicately and stepped over to Miss Parker.

"We should return to the Centre quickly. They're already suspicious enough as it is…"

Miss Parker looked back into Jarod's eyes, and he nodded his agreement. "Don't worry, everything will be fine. Go." He squeezed her hand gently and then released it. He looked to Sydney.

"I'll get better, I'll… take my time." Sydney smiled again. He reached down to place a hand on Jarod's forehead, just as he had done when the Pretender was a boy. Knowing there was nothing to be said that Jarod hadn't already heard, he turned away and strode quietly out of the room. Miss Parker leant in for a last, gentle kiss, strangely uncaring that Karl and Suzie were there to witness this softness in her character.

As she got up to leave, Karl winked at her. "We'll look after him, Miss Parker. The _chase_ will be on again in no time."

At the door, she turned. "I can't wait."

**End of Part Eleven**


	12. Mint On The Pillow

_**Mint On The Pillow**_

**Part Twelve – Mint On The Pillow**

The Canal View Motel was another of those places she would never have chosen to stay in herself, but after her recent failure to recapture Jarod she was in the doghouse, and as punishment her expenses were being reviewed.

She walked up to the door of her room, noting the cracking paintwork and the tasteless curtains with disdain, but she had to smile as the 'C' on the tall neon sign flickered and went out. She shook her head and unlocked the door.

A lean ginger cat appeared out of the shadows and meowed mournfully at her, rubbing against her legs. She reached down to stroke it briefly and the thing purred like a motorbike. She patted it goodnight went on in to her dubiously decorated lodging.

A half hour later, she was just stepping out of the shower, cursing the alternatively hot and cold water, when her phone rang. She swore again, threw a towel round herself and ran still dripping into the bedroom.

She snatched up her phone. "Parker," she snapped.

"Now what could _possibly_ put sweet-tempered Miss Parker in such a foul mood?" Jarod's honey voice teased. Miss Parker huffed and flopped down on the bed, distractedly picking at the green foil on the after-dinner mint by her head.

"_You_ could. You always do. I hope you're calling to apologise."

It hadn't taken Jarod long to pretend his way onto the staff of a local radio station and set up a county-wide phone-in about women who prefer do the 'chasing'. He'd called it The Parker Tendency, interjecting each call with completely fabricated suggestive stories about her. This had inevitably provoked plenty of jokes from Sydney and Broots, in fact, almost everyone at the Centre had tuned in.

She had finally arrived at the radio station to a round of applause from the staff, minus Jarod of course, who had hung a life size poster of her behind his desk.

"I just thought you'd like to know that you're not alone. There are _lots_ of women out there just like you--"

"Tormented by smug laboratory runaways? And even _after_ I saved your life! Your ingratitude knows no bounds."

"Well, think of this as my way of thanking you--"

A strange croaky whine sounded in the background as he spoke.

"I made you famous didn't I?"

A faint thrumming sound like a motorbike…

"Jarod, _where_ are you!" Parker got off the bed, went over to the window.

"You know where."

She moved the hideous curtains aside. Jarod was sat on the step outside; the ginger cat in his lap was purring contentedly at his petting.

She dashed to the door and opened it. He stood up to meet her with a hypnotic smile. She shivered slightly in the doorway, drops of water still glistened on her bare shoulders and her hair dripped down her back.

She smiled and held out the mint from the pillow.

"Here, I saved this for you."

He took it from her with a sly smile as they stepped inside.

**FIN**

Author's Note: Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed and kept egging me on. This fic has been great fun to write and I hope you enjoyed it! xx


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